(Isaiah 53) - Though I once suffered from wounds that steal
I now rely on the One who bears the scars that heal.
The conversation started this morning with Jayme (my
niece) showing me the scar on her arm left by a spider bite. I remember when it was a nasty festering open sore…now
all that is left is a small, discolored, slightly raised area that may quite possibly disappear with time. I said the first
thing that popped into my head, “Cool, scars are good. They remind us of the life we have lived.” Then I shared
my physical scars with her. The one on my forehead from when at 3 years old I ran into a nail protruding from our couch; the
one on my knee gotten at age 6 when I crashed while learning to ride a bike; the one on my shin from the first time I shaved
my legs and took off the top 25 layers of skin with the first swipe of the blade; the scars from my 2 C-Sections that gave
me two beautiful daughters. Yes, each scar, long ago healed, came with a vivid memory of a moment in time that I had lived.
My mind wandered from my physical scars to the emotional ones. I began looking at each one of them and remembered
what I went through to get them. This process seemed a bit more intense than the exploration of my physical scars. It seemed
these emotional scars were still tender and the vivid memories were of sad, lonely, shameful, humiliating, heart breaking
and often tragic moments I had lived. But I allowed myself to probe regardless of the flinch in my eye and the balk of my
heart. You see, there was a time when these were open, festering wounds that stole from me. They stole my friendships, my
peace, my joy, my sanity, even my identity. Some of these wounds were self inflicted and some were inflicted upon me. Really,
the pain was the same regardless of its origin and these wounds oozed bitterness onto everything I touched and they began
to steal my life.
Now as I touch upon each scar, I am thankful for the tenderness; for without it I may forget
all that He has brought me through. I might forget to show compassion on those who are hurting now. I might wrongly believe
that it is time that healed me. NO, it is not time but His scars that have healed me. ‘He was wounded for my transgressions,
He was bruised for my guilt and iniquities; the chastisement [needful to obtain] peace and well-being for me was upon Him,
and with the stripes [that wounded] Him I am healed and made whole’.
